


the simmering of decades (is now the spark of a single second)

by aykepoll



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Confessions, F/M, Fluff, HK actually has his shit together, Kissing, Misunderstandings, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, SG pines and thinks about the past a bunch, ice turns up in one sentence, so does china
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-19 17:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16539134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aykepoll/pseuds/aykepoll
Summary: It's Iceland's turn to host the annual New Year's Eve celebration this year. Hong Kong's up to no good. Singapore overthinks everything. There's snow everywhere. Most tragic of all, there's no bubble tea in Reykjavik. In these circumstances, will the ship ever sail from these two ports?





	the simmering of decades (is now the spark of a single second)

**Author's Note:**

> it's 2018 why am i still in this fandom  
> Xiang- HK  
> Vanda- SG

The countdown is ringing in her ears, the last ten seconds of the year flashing by as they stumble away, the heat from the bonfire clinging to them. He veers to the left, heading for the rare grove of trees, leaf sparse in winter but wrapped in the shadows cast by a wistful moon this night. Vanda follows, hand curling around the neck of an almost empty glass bottle she’d unconsciously picked up when he whispered to her, back at the bonfire. _“If you want, like, a better spot to see the fireworks, follow me.”_

The cold from the damp log settles into Vanda’s bones, in stark contrast to the steam coming off her side. She’s pressed against Xiang, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. Tipping the bottle back, the vodka slides down her throat, nearly choking her as a heavy weight rests against her shoulder. She resists the urge to scratch where his hair tickles her neck, pulling goosebumps from her skin. His breath brushes against her right ear, a warm, heady breeze that stirs up the fallen leaves littering the pits of her stomach.

“Emil really, like, pulled all the stops for the fireworks this year, huh?” he whispers, eyes tracking the flashes of light emerging from the bonfire in the distance. What fireworks? All she can hear is the _thump-thump-thump_ of her heart, louder than anything. How can he not hear it every time they speak? This want, this longing… It is a foreign feeling for her, for despite spending the entire year in the sun, she had always been drifting in a sea of liquid nitrogen. In those early years of betrayal, as her neighbours circled like hungry sharks, not caring was what kept her afloat. Friends were now business partners, and there was no place for warmth amid forming trade deals and alliances. The smoke of orchids had filled her house many a time, expressions of concern that Vanda had burnt to ashes, and with it, what little friendship they had forged before. Their scent is just beginning to pervade her one-room flat again. Perhaps it is too early for them, the two wonder-childs of a former empire, who had competed-compete against each other in every way they know how, from shipping to business to education. Too early… too early for what? Friendship? More than that? What they had before was always stolen glances and unsaid words, never acted on.

“Hey. Heeeeey…Vee? Are you like, with me?” Xiang’s finger taps her nose, and she jerks away, his head slipping off her shoulder. She twists to glare at him, already missing the familiar warmth.

“Sorry, I was distracted. What’d you say?” He rolls his eyes, a glint of a smile on his face. She hopes that the light from Emil’s porch is dim enough to hide her blush, but with the fireworks, she doubts it.

“As I was saying before you like, totally spaced out on me, it’s a shame that such nice fireworks are going to waste, right?” Oh, she’s in for it now. A full-blown smirk is spreading across Xiang’s face. Whatever crazy scheme he’s pulled on those fireworks, she’s about to witness the aftermath. _I’m not drunk enough for pining and pranking today_ , Vanda sighs, pulling a face as she swallows the dregs of vodka, before humouring him.

“Aiyo, what you do now?” Wow, she’s really drunk if that’s slipping out already. Standard English can suck it in the face of Ivan’s good quality vodka. And by good quality, she means Soviet-era quality. Damn.

“It’s not what I _did_ , per se, it’s what I’m gonna do.” A retort is on the tip of her tongue, something biting about him using Latin and slang in one sentence, when a hand grasps her chin, holding her still. Xiang leans forward, his eyes shimmering in the flashing lights. She freezes, barely breathing as his forehead presses against hers, breath barely visible as white tendrils brushing against her lips. Millimeters apart, and for the first time in years, she wants.

“I mean, what are New Year’s fireworks without a New Year’s kiss?” He chuckles, one hand pressing gently against her cheek, a question, not an answer. She doesn’t blink, doesn’t move. The wind picks up, ruffling his bangs. Xiang’s eyes drag across her lips and back up to her eyes again, asking silently. Her mind suddenly brings up images of long ago lectures on manners, usually directed at the boy in front of her, and she nearly snorts, despite the atmosphere. So, Kirkland did raise a gentleman in the end, contrary to his claims.

Gingerly, she brings her hand up, brushing her thumb against his cheekbone. It’s his turn to be still, watching, waiting patiently. Her hands are steady, the alcohol in her system now a light buzz in her mind. Maybe it wasn’t the vodka talking just now, maybe Vanda’s heart had for once caught up before her mind could. “If I’m reading this wrong, you’d better tell me now,” she breathes, head tilting, leaning forward.

Xiang’s eyes are sparkling bright like the firecrackers he loves so much, lips parting slightly. “You aren’t, you never could-” that’s all he gets out before they’re kissing, finally. Her lips press against his, both slightly chapped from the freezing winds. Eyes sliding shut, she curls her hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer. There is no second-guessing or weighing the pros and cons of her decision. Without conferring, her mind and heart are in unanimous agreement, for once, to be selfish.

She shivers as fingers gently run through her hair, reveling in its smoothness, up till now only admired from afar. Blindly, she scrabbles for his free hand, winding their fingers together. His lips stretch into a smile, contagious enough that she does the same, and their teeth clink together, messily. Xiang laughs against her, a light, airy sound, almost disbelieving.

The fireworks have long since stopped, but Vanda still hears their echoes when they eventually lean back to catch their breath, little flurries of steam dancing in their shared air. She gives him a soft, secret smile, letting herself go for this one moment. The look of wonder in his face is worth the lapse in her mask. When was the last time he’d seen her like this? All shields down, no barbs, no wires. Just a girl, too old for her age, too young for her mind. Just a girl, and her heart.

“ _Li xiao, ni zai na li? Wo men hui jia le!_ ” Wang Yao’s slurred words shatters the easy silence, shredding the soft clouds they were floating on. Vanda jerks back, eyes shifting as his footsteps crunch past, away from where the shadows surrounded them in the trees, thankfully. She ducks her head, staring quietly at their entwined fingers, mind stumbling in the wake of the moment. Stupid, stupid, _bodoh_ , you read it all wrong, he just wanted a New Year’s kiss, nothing more. He was going to leave, she was going to avoid him for the next century, and both were going to pretend nothing had happened.

* * *

Ever so slightly, Xiang squeezes her hand. She blinks confusedly, glancing up at him. If he didn’t hurry up, Yao would leave without him, drunk as he was. He sighs, shaking his head fondly as his free hand taps her nose again, lightning fast. She flinches, _it’s colder than the first time!_ before glaring at him, eyes flickering in the direction of Yao’s footprints.

“Didn’t I like, tell you already? You aren’t reading this wrong,” Xiang snorts, rolling his eyes. “Or did you beat me in all those world rankings for nothing?” At his words, she straightens slowly, mind dashing in a mad attempt to catch up. The kiss flashes through her mind again, sending a bolt of molten steel down her spine. Wrong or not, it wasn’t like this night could get any worse. There had to be a reason Xiang hadn’t left, _yet_ , and even if she was wrong, well. Better to set a torch to the wound now than to let it fester for another thousand years. To the victor go the spoils, they say. Vanda sucks in a deep breath, feeling dizzy as it rattles against her teeth.

“Café Babalu. Tomorrow-no, today- at one,” she bites out the words in a hurry, too afraid she’ll back out. “I’ll bring flowers.” This last statement hangs in the air, the most blatant declaration she could have made. The gauntlet is thrown at his feet, drums pounding to the beat of her stuttering pulse. There’s a sharp intake of breath. A hint of a blush peeks out among his freckles, or perhaps it was the bite of the winter chill getting to him. The rest of his face is a blank mask. Her muscles tense, ready to flee to the relative safety of Emil’s house, when a slow, easy smile spreads across his face, eyes shining in the moonlight.

“It’s a date,” Xiang whoops, jumping up from the log, pulling her up with him. She almost topples over, more because of the flood of relief rushing through her than the abrupt movement. “I’ll like, buy you bubble tea and, like, hold your hand, and we’ll bitch about the exchange rate and the bloody expensive coffee, and, and- it’ll be totally sick!” Despite the uncomfortable dampness that has seeped into her jeans, she’s grinning like a madman, leaning into him as he gestures excitedly.

“You can’t find bubble tea in Iceland!”

“If we're going on a date, I can find it anywhere!” The word sends a rush through her, and she reaches up, looping her hands around his neck. His next few words on bubble tea inflation stutter to a halt as she gently brushes her lips against his, a quick, barely there peck, before stepping back just as fast. Xiang’s still frozen, arms caught mid-tirade. Perhaps its just started sinking in for him, perhaps it hasn’t started for her.

“I’ll… I’ll see you. Tomorrow.” she mumbles, before spinning on her heel. How fast can she walk without running? Her feet crunch loudly in the quiet, and she cringes, her cheeks burning. A soft chuckle of _“Today,”_ reaches her ears, but she doesn’t tear her eyes from the log house in the distance, briskly stepping over snow covered tree roots. Once past the treeline, she flies, sprinting through the porch, ducking under a wild axe swing by Mathias (intended for Bernard) and past England leading a chorus of Auld Lang Syne with the other drunken revelers celebrating the new year. Emil catches her arm on the stairwell, and she pauses, bracing for questions on her flushed cheeks, wild eyes. All he does, however, is direct her to her room on the second floor, winking knowingly as the  door slams shut. Her shoes clatter onto the hardwood floor as she collapses face-first on the bed. Today.

* * *

She turns up half an hour late in the clothes from yesterday-today. He’s wearing new clothes but mismatched socks. There is a sealed plastic cup with a creamy liquid and black dots on the table, condensation forming on its sides. The flowers she grips are crushed between them when he stands to greet her, mauve and pinkish-purple petals scattering to the floor.

**Author's Note:**

> in case you were wondering, the national flower of hong kong is pinkish purple in colour and singapore's is mauve/violet/purple. how sg found these exact flowers in iceland the world will never know. probably cost her a bomb.  
> there really aren't any bubble tea shops in iceland (unless google has lied to me), so xiang caught a flight to norway once vanda went back to the house, used Nation Privileges to carry it onboard, and made it to the cafe just before vanda did.  
> one day i will write my guilty pleasure ship of sg/hk/ice. one day.
> 
> ahhh this is the first time i'm posting on ao3 (and the first time i've written/edited/posted a whole fic in like, two years) so i apologise if there were many errors in writing. thanks for reading! please drop some constructive criticism in a review if you feel like it!


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